


I Have a Bad Feeling About This

by bamfbugboy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clone Wars, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, a mechanic and a jedi, lots of fluff involved, takes place between the prequels and then during
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7395655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamfbugboy/pseuds/bamfbugboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with one task. She did not expect for it to turn into anything, certainly not anything related to that silly war between the Separatists and the Republic. But that changed for a nobody-mechanic. The first task: fixing Obi-Wan Kenobi's speeder. The second task: joining the Intergalactic Army of the Republic. The third task: mending Obi-Wan's heart. The fourth task: learning that you cannot always fix everything, because some things cannot be changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Copying this over from my fanfiction.net account. This is a finished, complete story with chapters to come gradually.

23BBY, Coruscant

Claire Elrin quickly hopped over the side of the taxi airspeeder upon arriving at one of the many clubs inside of Coruscant's club district. She checked the sign before paying the driver. It read: Outlander Club. It was the right place. She paid the driver, flashed one of her better smiles, and then started to walk towards the entrance. There was little hassle getting inside of the club, besides having to yell over the loud, almost obnoxiously loud, music that penetrated beyond the club's walls and filled the air outside. The bouncer checked her identification, and then allowed her to enter.

Of course, that was after he glanced at her body up and down once or twice. Claire ignored this by lowering her eyes and entering the club without any spoken words. Deep down she wanted to slap the bouncer, but she also did not want to kicked out without having even stepped foot inside of the club itself. A necessary evil, was not scantily dressed, at least by clubbing standards. She was wearing her auburn hair up in a high tail, and was wearing a simple, if not slightly tight, strapless black dress that came to above her knee. She immediately bolted to the bar and ordered a drink, her standard Star-Lovers, which was mildly alcoholic. The club was very busy, as Coruscant's Underworld always was, and once again she needed to yell over the music in order to place her order.

When the drink was placed in front of her, she smiled again, paid the bartender, and then swiveled her body around in order to look at the bar's inhabitants. Some people were dancing, others smoking, some gambling, some conducting illegal behaviors, and others, well they were people-watching much like herself. She took a casual sip of her electric-blue colored drink. A small frown appeared on her face.

"Why do I even come to these clubs," she asked herself quietly, with a disappointed sigh.

Claire did not expect the man sitting next to her, or rather anyone at all, to overhear her comment. It especially startled her when he himself made a comment as well.

"I myself have been trying to figure that one out for quite some time. If you happen to make any progress, you should publish your findings." He added a polite chuckle.

She turned her head and looked at the man to her right. The first thought that entered her mind was the fact that he was dressed inappropriately for a club. He was wearing a beige colored tunic and matching pants, each equally on the tattered spectrum, brown leather boots, and brown robes, with his hood down. What caught her eye the most was the mostly concealed weapon sheathed at his hip: a lightsaber's hilt. Quickly she lifted her gaze back up to his eyes, with the hope that he had not caught her staring.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Claire had not noticed that he was still talking.

"I was telling you why I come to these clubs."

"Oh." She then took another gulp of her drink and then placed it on the counter. "I sometimes lose track of my sense of hearing in these clubs. The music is so loud. By the end of the evening my throat is swollen because I have yelled so much."

The man's grin told her that he must have experienced similar troubles.

"And yet we keep coming here. Or well, I am assuming that you actually do frequent these clubs, from your original statement."

"Well, yes, I suppose I do −" She paused, in order to grab her drink again and stand up. "But most of the time I grab my drink and wait for a booth to open up. Do you mind? I would rather not have to deal with the discomfort of a sore throat tomorrow morning, I have work."

The man politely nodded, pulled his hood over his head, and followed her to the freshly opened booth that she mentioned. They sat across from one another. A rush of relief fell upon Claire's shoulders. She offered the man a comfortable smile. The booth was away from the speakers, so it was much easier to hear company.

"Thank you, I prefer to be able to hear what other people are saying."

"I agree. Can put a damper on a conversation if it's one-sided."

"You know it. I have had plenty of those before." She chuckled briefly, looked at her half empty glass, and then looked back up at him. "Anyways, I come here sometimes with my friends. Unfortunately, they could not get the evening off. The demand for a mechanic seems to have increased exponentially with all of the conflict in the galaxy right now. But I've worked for the past few evenings, so I was given the evening off. Coming to a club is better than being cramped in my apartment, possibly buried under equipment, as I work on my own projects."

"I see. Are you a mechanic yourself?" The man across from her grinned at her comment and then took a drink from his own glass after asking.

Claire nodded, and with a sheepish grin stated, "Yes, I am. Greasy, oily, and sweaty mechanic by day, reluctant clubber by night."

The man smiled at her joke and then asked, "What kind of mechanic? Do you work on droids, speeders, star-ships?"

"Mainly droids and speeders. I have a few friends who work on the bigger cruisers and military vehicles, but I prefer to not get caught in those work schedules. I have a decent grasp on medical technology, too."

"Is that so? Do you work at a local shop?"

"Yes and no. I do work at one of the local technician shops, but most of my work is commission. Thankfully, the demand for a mechanic who works on those vehicles has increased significantly. Sometimes I'm in a hangar, sometimes I'm just working in my own apartment. It varies, you see. My friends who work on the big stuff have really rough schedules. I would rather not become trapped in the lengthy and late work hours. Instead, I fix up the droids who become broken by a stray blaster shot, for example, and your average traveling speeder. Yet, I suppose if it were my only option, I guess I would be fixing star-ships as well."

He nodded. "I have a friend who could probably relate. He finds machinery to be an enjoyable hobby. He can build and use what he makes. He made his own assistant droid. He knows how to fix ships and he flies them very well."

"Is that so? Your friend and I would probably get along very well." She paused briefly, and before she knew what she was entirely saying, Claire blurted out, "Is he a jedi, too?"

The man was taking a drink as she asked this. He dropped his glass to the table immediately, mid-swig, and then narrowed his auburn brows for a few moments. She kept his gaze, and waited for him to either storm off or answer her question. She was thankful to see that he was not leaving.

He leaned over the table and answered in a quieter voice, "Yes, he is. He is my padawan, actually."

"Oh, really? That's an apprentice, right?"

"Yes." He replied simply.

After a few minutes of silence and awkward drinking in order to fill that silence, she looked up, catching his eyes again after suddenly feeling like she was being intensively watched.

"I apologize, I had not meant to pry. I saw the hilt. I blurted the question out before I even knew what I had asked."

His shoulders loosened after her apology, and he offered a smile again. "Perhaps it's fair. After all, I asked you about your interests for coming here. We're even, how's that?"

"That's fine with me, uhh..."

"Obi-wan." He interrupted her, "Obi-wan Kenobi." Another polite smile.

Promptly, she replied, "Claire Elrin."

"It's a pleasure, Miss Elrin."

She could not help but faintly flush, and she hoped that in the dim light he would not be able to notice. Her eyes lowered away from his, falling back upon her now finished drink. He lowered his hood again, and ran a hand through his hair. Awkward silence fell upon them again (or as awkward as awkward silence can be in a loud club). Soon she gained the courage to end the silence between them.

"So you never told me why you choose to come to clubs then. Or well, I guess you did, but I was deaf from the music before. I told you my reason: to get out of my apartment. What about you?"

"Frankly and quite honestly, to get away from my reckless padawan."

Claire laughed, and she hoped it was meant to be taken lightly. "Is that so? He's a handful, then?"

"Unfortunately, he can be. He is very ambitious. I suppose most padawans are. It is a crucial time for them. The time where they are gaining experience, and are training under a master, with the ever looming dream of becoming a jedi-knight. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but you could say that my padawan is very eager. Perhaps a little too eager."

"So a drink helps take the edge off after a day of working with him?"

A faint grin spread across his face and he nodded in agreement.

"Now you are making it sound like it's a bad thing."

"No, no, of course it isn't. What exactly are you drinking, anyways? I have never seen a drink of that color served here."

"I can't remember what it's called. Whenever I come here, I always tell the bartender for just the usual. It's probably ardees."

"So you must frequent this club often?"

Obi-wan's grin grew slightly. "No, unless you consider frequent to be several months apart, then no I do not frequent this club often. Not enough to have ever seen you here before with your friends, either. I am usually away from Coruscant for extended periods of time. This is a rare occasion, actually, so I try to make the best of it." She nodded, but he continued, "And I am thankful to admit that the company this time around isn't too bad."

"Too bad? I am wonderful company."

"She seems to have a bit of an ego, though." Another sly grin.

"A bit of one? You haven't got me started."

They both laughed. Silence fell between the two of them again, though this time it lacked the awkwardness of the last two bouts of silence. Claire took this opportunity to make sideways glances at Obi-wan. As she had expected, he was a mixture of tired stoicism and tranquility. His eyes were a cross between blue or grey, she could not pick which color they were, and his auburn hair was kept short and well-groomed. She admitted to herself that his scruffy, if not partially rugged-looking facial hair were highly attractive. The thought itself made her cheeks experience a rush of sensation again.

"So what kind of projects do you work on? I mean personal ones, like you mentioned."

"Like your friend, I'm working on building an assistant droid. I know I could purchase one, but I have made my own specialized schematics, and would prefer the finished droid to have more features than what the purchasable ones offer."

"Well what kind of tasks are you requesting that it do?"

"Cleaning, mainly. My apartment, I hate to admit, can become very disorganized quickly. I would also like to program it to be able to help me fix other mechanical issues as well at work. It would make me a more efficient worker if there were four appendages working on a speeder, for example, than just two. Two of which are fleshy, and easily can become ineffective if wounded by said sharp machinery."

"Those are reasonable tasks, I do not doubt that you could build a droid that meets those requests."

"Plus, I do not trust salesmen like I don't trust any of these politicians, either."

"Oh? Is that so?" Obi-wan's grin seemed to illustrate how he himself knew what she was talking about to a great extent. "I do not trust either as well."

"There aren't any trustworthy bones in their bodies, frankly. I have seen some of the materials these droids that these so called 'experts' sell. They are the mostly cheap and weak materials, the worst you could find. If one looks hard enough, they can find better materials for the same price elsewhere. Even most junkyards have better materials than the stuff that these 'fancier' droids are made out of."

"And of the politicians?"

Claire hesitated before answering his question. "I don't know. It always seems like there's another agenda. Like they are not looking out for the people's interests. I am sure some of them are, I would surely hope some of them are, but every time I turn on the HoloNET and check up on the latest news about the conflict between the Separatists and the Republic, I always become a bit disheartened." She paused and shrugged. "But what do I know. I work in a hangar or a garage all day. I'm not an expert on politics."

"I happen to know a few politicians. I can assure you that a few of them truly do care about their people."

"That's wonderful to hear." She hoped her smile appeared as genuine as she meant for it to be.

She did not expect for him to make any more comments on the subject, but Claire was surprised to see him thinking on it still, and finally he spoke up again. "If you will permit me to casually discuss the topic," he paused and Claire eagerly nodded, "then I can at least tell you that whatever happens, know that there will always be those who look out for the interests of the many. I for one have a duty to the Republic, its people, and the Code that I follow. These things give me strength, much like the Force does, and I will always stand by them."

He sounded honorable. Yet as Claire watched him speak, she saw the sudden mixture of exhaustion and sincerity. She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled slowly. When she reopened her eyes a few minutes later, she caught his glance again, and it pleased her to see that he appeared much more relaxed than before. Claire wondered if she should say something, but she simply smiled again, and turned her head in order to look out at the crowd.

"Do jedi dance?" She asked, a little nonchalantly. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and saw that his hands were now folded together on the table beside his glass.

"Do mechanics dance?"

"I asked first," she stated with a sly smile.

"Unwillingly, most of the time. Usually a few jedi representatives go to the political fundraisers and benefits. We do not mingle, but observe. Keep the peace."

"Understandable, but also unfortunate. Do you not enjoy dancing?"

"I don't exactly hate it, I simply prefer keeping to myself at those benefits. My padawan enjoys them more than I do," he said with a half-hearted laugh. Obi-wan reached up and ran a hand through his hair, and Claire found herself laughing with him. She found him to be very pleasant company, both in conversation and he was pretty easy on the eyes. "Do you?"

"I suppose if I were asked to dance, I would not entirely turn it down, out of politeness."

"I see." He took the hint, and it made her pleasantly happy. He stood up from the booth and looked at her, with one hand outstretched and the other akimbo. "I would be greatly honored if you would bear the pain of dancing with me."

"It's a pain I will begrudgingly share with you," he stated, while trying hard not to laugh. She took his offered hand and he pulled her away from the club area. She led him to one of the openings in the building, where there was a small, semi-secluded balcony that was thankfully far away enough from the loud speakers, the noise, and the crowd of club-goers. The balcony overlooked a busy area of Coruscant, where speeders were zooming in all possible directions towards various destinations. It was late in the evening, yet regardless there were people out and about.

They stood and looked out over the balcony in silence for a few moments, before Claire stated softly, "This city never sleeps, doesn't it?"

"Of course." He glanced around and frowned, "There is always something to be done."

"I suppose that's true." She frowned and tentatively reached out to take his hand. He permitted her, and she turned his frame so that they were facing one another. He was slightly taller than her, but her shoes did give her a slight amount of extra height.

She found herself wanting to ask him so many strange questions that popped in her mind, questions that were both a mixture of small-talk and personal interests, but she refrained ultimately as Obi-wan took the lead and fulfilled her indirect request. Claire was surprised to find how chaste his hand on her hip felt. There were no insinuations; instead, she felt a rush of calm envelope her. They swayed gently, dancing slowly and carefully, unlike the boisterous and fast-paced dancing inside of the club itself. The silence was peaceful, Claire decided with a soft smile.

Yet when she looked up at Obi-wan, she found that his eyes held a sense of detachment, as if despite his physical body being with her, his mind was elsewhere. It made her heart sink, and she wondered if she should address it or not. She chose not to, but still chose to break the silence regardless. She stopped moving and said softly, "Thank you. That satisfied my desire to dance."

He looked down at her, with a surprised expression. She offered him a smile again, and then disconnected herself from his gentle hold. Their dance had not been intimate by any means at all, she reminded herself, and she figured that he had every right to think about other things. There were more pressing matters, and she, for the most part, convinced herself that that was alright.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you." She took a step away from him and looked at Obi-wan again. "Perhaps I should be heading out. I have work in the morning, and I'm sure you have places to be as well."

He nodded, and only stated, "I'll see to it that you arrive home safely."

They left the club then, with the music still raging and their minds bereft of anything to say, other than silence. Her apartment was not far from the club district. Yet Claire felt obligated to say something before parting with him, as she stood outside her apartment door.

"Thank you for this, Obi-wan, I had a good time." Claire nodded and placed her palm on the hand scanner, which was her personal layer of security that she had organized and installed herself. She took a step into her apartment, but felt his eyes on her still. She quickly turned around and said, "If you ever need a mechanic, please do not hesitate to contact me. I can fix just about anything, and hopefully before then I will have my own droid to help me out as well."

He nodded again, smiled, and then added, "I'll be sure to do that. With the way my padawan and I fly and the situations we often get into, I do not doubt that we will be requiring your services soon."

She returned the nod, but found herself unable to turn and walk into her apartment, ending their evening. "Perhaps we could have a meal at Dex's sometime, whenever we both are available."

"I would like that, but unfortunately I will be away from Coruscant starting tomorrow. My padawan and I are being sent to the outer rim. We have to oversee a diplomatic agreement between two tribes who are contemplating joining the Republic. But perhaps some other time, indeed."

"Alright. Safe travels then, Obi-wan. Come back without any cybernetic replacements. Though, I can fix those too."

"I will have to keep that in mind," he smiled at her again, bowed politely, and added as his final comment, "Thank you as well, Miss Elrin."

Obi-wan and Claire said their final goodbyes, and then he turned and walked away. Claire entered her apartment, and once the door was shut, she found herself leaning against the door, sliding down to the ground, and then sitting trapped in her own thoughts for another hour or so. She ended up falling asleep in an upright position against her door. However, the next morning, she awoke in her bed, still dressed in the clothes from the previous evening, but a little startled by the fact. She checked the time, panicked for oversleeping, and then got dressed into her work clothes and headed for the docking bays at the Republic Executive building. As she took a taxi-speeder to the hangar, she wondered briefly about Obi-wan, and the offers she had made the previous evening.


	2. Chapter 2

Claire was already significantly late by the time she finally reached the Republic Executive building where she was assigned to work for the day. She came into the main loading hangar entirely disheveled and exhausted from her race to not be any more late than she already was. She had not had time to entirely put herself together that morning, so she truly looked the part — recognizably and solely late. Her boss was clearly disappointed by her untimely arrival. She was expected by early morning, but she was arriving around noun.

"I'm sorry, sir I —" she started when she finally crossed the expanse of the hangar area, and was standing before her superior.

"You were supposed to be here a few hours ago, Claire." He interrupted sternly, "Tell me why I should not be telling you to leave this hangar immediately, and that your services are no longer required."

"Uhm —" she looked up and was hardly able to say a word before she was interrupted again.

"Because the Republic needs all of the help it can get. If there weren't any struggles between the damned Separatists, the Trade Federation, and the Republic itself, you would have been out of work by now."

"I understand sir, I apologize for my —" again, cut off by his overpowering voice.

"Enough. I do not want to hear your excuses. There's a Consular-class cruiser at gate 51 that needs immediate repair, and they need it fixed now. So get to it before I change my mind about your future as a mechanic."

"Yes, sir. I will get right on that." She stated with a quick nod. She left her superior and began to head over to gate 51. She rummaged through the satchel at her side and pulled out her goggles. The satchel itself was filled with her supplies, tools, and her scrunched up lunch as well. She pulled her goggles over her head and let them rest around her neck as she then began to pull her hair into a messy ponytail with several strands loosely hanging. Finally, she pushed her goggles onto her face. She started to run towards the gate, after getting everything into place, fearing another reprimand from the person dealing with the malfunctioning cruiser. She was so busy trying to appear professional and apologetic at the same time that Claire did not notice who was actually waiting beside the malfunctioning ship.

It did not take much for her sleep deprived mind to realize how embarrassed and apologetic she really felt when she saw whose starcruiser she would be fixing. She saw one man standing beside the immensely large, battered red vehicle, and the other one on top of one of the ship's large wings, who was inspecting for himself some of the machinery. He was wearing goggles similar to her own, and held a high-powered welding tool, which he was using. A little ways away was a large group of people who looked restless, and she assumed that these people were also travelers.

The sudden weight of her embarrassment fell upon her shoulders. They were in such a hurry that they were trying to fix the ship themselves.

"Excuse me?" She called out to man standing on the ground who was turned away from her. "You requested a mechanic, correct? Malfunctioning Consular-class cruiser?"

The man standing on the ground turned his head his head and nodded. It was Obi-wan Kenobi. It did not make her feel any better to see him. She was relieved to see that he did not recognize her with her goggles on.

"Anakin! The mechanic's here, get down from there before you break it any further than it already is."

The man on the ship looked up, turned off the torch, removed the goggles from his face, and looked down at Obi-wan. "Finally! It's about time. What took them so long?"

"I'm so sorry, I arrived late −" Claire began as she walked closer to Obi-wan, but he cut her off with a raised hand.

"Please, we are in a hurry. The other passengers are very restless. I apologize for my friend, he thought he could fix it himself. I could not stop him from grabbing a pair of goggles and working on it himself. Hopefully he did not make our situation any worse."

She nodded and walked over to the ladder leaning against the side of the wing. Obi-wan's friend was coming down the ladder, and once on the ground he looked at her and stated, "For some reason the ion drives aren't working on both of the wings. They aren't igniting. Something isn't connected right, I think. It might be a pair of busted power cells, but I am not entirely sure when it comes to these bigger cruisers. I was welding together a few busted panels on the top that were loose, as we waited for you, the mechanic, to show up."

"Alright, thank you for that. That's one less thing I have to repair."

The tall man was dressed in dark clothes, with short, light brown hair. He nodded and stood by Obi-wan again. She pondered momentarily about the man's strange thin braid that fell to his shoulder, but then let the trait pass by in her mind. Claire watched Obi-wan scold his friend for messing with the cruiser himself. She did not put much thought to it, though it only slightly bothered her that a civilian would even attempt to work on a cruiser. She settled on the fact that because of Obi-wan and his friend's situation, the act was perhaps justifiable. She continued climbing up the stairs without thinking any more on it.

Claire settled down beside the malfunctioned cruiser's radiator panel wing and began to work. After a few moments of scanning the insides of the opened panels, she saw the problem and reached into her satchel in order to get the tools she would need to repair it. She was pleased that she charged her own welding tool the night before, knowing that she may need it today for work. She glanced down at Obi-wan and his friend who were engaged in discussion.

"Excuse me!" She shouted down. She waited until they turned their attention to her, and she pointed to the open panels as she explained, "I know what's wrong. The igniters do not function if one of the wings happens to be busted in some shape or form. It's a safety thing." She decided to cut the explanation, and continued to state, "Tell the other passengers and the pilot that they will be able to leave in, oh, I would say about ten to fifteen minutes. They should get settled while I fix this up."

She saw Obi-wan sigh in relief, and he quickly thanked her for the good news. Thus he and Anakin, Claire caught his name from before, exchanged a few more words, and then the two of them walked off to tell the other passengers the news. After that was taken care of, she continued working on the broken magnetic turbines and the ion generator ring that were loose by welding them into a secured position. She always carried a few spare parts (the smaller ones) in her satchel, and was able to properly fix the broken magnetic turbine by replacing some of the other worn down parts. Once she finished fixing what had malfunctioned, she covered the exposed machinery with the withered red panel, and then made her way to the other wing carefully. She unscrewed the panel and did a quick yet thorough exam on the other wing. Everything appeared to be in order. Out of precaution regardless, Claire still made sure everything was tightened up, in place, and still functional.

About fifteen minutes from when she had told Obi-wan and Anakin the diagnosis for the ship, give or take a few minutes, Claire was stepping off the ladder in order to alert the pilot, who was talking with Obi-wan personally.

"Excuse me," she interrupted, and the two of them stopped talking and turned their attention to her. She addressed the pilot specifically. "Everything should be fixed up. If you will just try to start it up, we'll know if everything's in order."

The pilot nodded and walked onto the ship's main platform, disappeared, and a few moments later, Claire and Obi-wan were relieved to see that the ion drivers were functional again.

"Oh, what a relief. We are very behind, unfortunately, so I cannot thank you enough for fixing this for us, and so promptly as well." He stated with a polite smile. Claire nodded and smiled back. However, as she was about to walk away from the ship again, to go to wherever her services would be needed again, he suddenly grasped her arm and pulled her back slightly. He leaned his head close to her ear and he stated softly, "Perhaps when I am back on Coruscant again, I will take you up on your offer to eat at Dex's, Claire."

Before she could say anything in response, Obi-wan was already gone, and instead briskly walking up the inclined platform, as he was the last passenger to board, in order for the ship to leave. Claire was sure that if anyone watched the scene unfold from afar, that they could see how red her cheeks had become. Without much thought on it, she left gate 51 without glancing back as the cruiser prepared to leave the hangar.


	3. Chapter 3

22 BBY, Coruscant

It normally would not phase Claire, but she soon found herself pondering from time to time the parameters and possible consequences of her hasty boldness when initially interacting with Obi-wan Kenobi. She assumed that her offers were simply polite, and not only completely relevant to his work as a jedi, but also a sign of reciprocity. Yet she had not expected his final words before he boarded the Consular cruiser. His change in heart startled her. Most of all, Claire wondered if there were underlying feelings beneath her offers.

Like most others who found themselves becoming tangled into something too complex, she chose to occupy her mind with work. Her work ethic improved significantly, and she found work to be an honest distraction. Yet repeatedly, and as much as she tried to prevent it, she could not shake the feeling − the intense rush of heat to her cheeks − and the possible implications of his obliging to her offer to eat out together. Over the course of the next several months Claire found herself wondering at what time her interests had become infatuation. She decided that more work would help ease her fears.

Claire continued to venture out with her coworkers and friends to Coruscant's many different clubs, and was often asked about the day she was extremely late to work at the hangar. The request to explain her situation was beginning to grow old, because her friends were attempting to make something out of nothing.

"I've told you this story plenty of times. I was late that day because I overslept."

"But that was the day after you had gone to the club all by yourself."

"Yeah, so?"

They looked at her as if she were oblivious.

"So then spill! You met someone, didn't you?"

She always lied, because she knew the implications of positively answering to a question like that. Yet she never hesitated when she lied. Claire felt that if she told herself that nothing had happened, perhaps nothing really would come out of it.

"No. I've told you all how my evening went. I ordered a drink, sat down, got a little tipsy, people-watched, and then went home. I didn't meet anyone."

This part of the usual conversation became a dissertation, presented by her friends, about how Claire needed to spend more time enjoying herself. She always argued that she did enjoy herself, but through other means. By then, she chose to drop the subject, instead hoping to ultimately let that evening remain as a figment of her memory. She had been tipsy that evening. She had said things that she had not been fully aware of. This of course, was the least she could admit as a response to that evening.

In the matter of work and enjoying herself, Claire found herself extremely proud of herself when she finally completed her assistant droid the month that Obi-wan returned from the Outer Rim. Her assistant droid, as she named DA-R1 (Domestic Assistant, Series 1), which had some feminine and masculine programming installed, for the purpose of the broad range of tasks Claire needed it to perform. Although it clearly had a few bugs in its structure and mainframe, it overall was extremely helpful in organizing her somewhat disorganized life.

Claire did not truly expect a busy jedi knight to follow through with his promise. But she truly did not know Obi-wan then, if she truly felt that way.

So when she received word that he would be back on Coruscant soon, through his holographic message, she was stunned and pleasantly surprised. He told her the days in which he would be available, and Claire was pleased to see that luckily enough a few of those days coincided with some of her own days off.

So she decided to surprise him as well. In his message, it stated that he would be waiting for her at Dex's the first day after of his return on Coruscant, around the early afternoon. She purchased him a small gift, a pair of finger-less gloves. She had seen how worn and ruined his gloves were the day he was traveling away from Coruscant, so she purchased new ones for him as a "welcome back" gift.

Claire chose to wear a dark red dress with short, ruffled sleeves. The dress itself was far more modest than the tight one she wore to the club, and if anything it was exceedingly more casual. She admitted to herself as she was getting dressed that she had no idea what this getting together was, or would be. She chose to make the safe choice, and dressed comfortably. She let her hair hang loosely instead of putting it up in a high tail. Her hair itself had a little wave to it.

As she was making her way to Coruscant's Coco Town on the day in which he would be back on the city-planet, she tangled with her own sudden apprehension. Repeatedly she reminded herself that they really were practically strangers for they had only met twice, each spontaneously. Part of thoughts consisted of the fact that perhaps there was something to the fact that their meetings were spontaneous, that perhaps something outside of themselves willed for it to happen. Claire found the idea ridiculous and cliche, and felt silly for having even thought it. Ultimately, she decided that she would be calm, collected, friendly, and thus, offer Obi-wan a chance to not have to worry about his own business as a jedi.

She did not bother listening, or rather over-hearing, the gossip of the other commuters on the shuttle. They were simply talking about politics, or some incident involving one of the senators, she really wasn't sure, and she did not care.

The diner itself was quite quiet, for the lunch crowd had already left for the most part. There were a few patrons remaining, however. She found him sitting in one of the booths, talking to FLO (WA-7), the waitress droid. His back was to her, and he did not see her approach. FLO made a pleasant, yet mechanical sounding laugh, and then zipped away to the counter. Gently reminding herself to maintain a confident, yet friendly appearance, she smiled. "Hello Obi-wan."

He immediately turned his head upon hearing his name, and he smiled in return. "Hello, Ms. Elrin, please, take a seat."

A stray thought regarding his formality crossed her mind (after all, he had called her by her first name when he had revealed that he knew who she was the last time they spoke). She tossed it aside as quickly as she could, maintained the smile, and sat down across from him. Claire placed the small wrapped package beside her on the seat, and immediately noticed that he was wearing different clothes. These garments were looser, though the same beige, or off-white color. There was no tattered, brown robe over his shoulders, no hood obstructing his face, and only a little tiredness in his eyes. However, said tattered, brown robe was laying next to him on the seat, folded neatly. Regardless, it was the first time she had seen him in a little under a year.

"You look well," she offered, "and from what I can tell, no new mechanical appendages either."

"Yes, unfortunately I did not have the chance to experience such a joy while I was away." He grinned, and she nodded in appreciation.

"That's wonderful to hear. I trust then, that your mission was successful?"

"As successful as it is going to be at the time."

She attentively nodded again. "I understand, I suppose. Diplomacy, I imagine, is a multi-step process. A hasty success would most likely be the wrong form of success. Those matters take time, like most other matters we face."

"An unfortunate consequence, indeed."

"How was the ship? No more malfunctioning, I hope."

"None, everything worked smoothly. You impressed my friend, and you saved him and I from the wrath of angry politicians who feared they would be late, and thus would disrupt the diplomatic situation at hand."

"It was the least I could do." She smiled half-heartedly, and grimaced at the thought of that day, and the expressions of the disgruntled passengers. "Again, I apologize for being late that day. Though it is no excuse, I woke up very late that morning."

"I apologize for keeping you out so late," he offered in return. "You and I both had places we needed to be the next morning. I should have taken you home sooner."

Claire was about to open her mouth in protest, to say that it had not been his fault, but she decided against it, instead choosing to concede to him. "Regardless, I truly did enjoy that evening. It was a pleasant change. Perhaps sometime when you and I are not busy, we can go back to Outlander Club, and begrudgingly dance."

Although she was grinning on the outside, she found herself mortified by her words. She had not even finished this meeting, this get-together, this whatever-it-really-was, and she was already asking him to commit to another whatever-that-really-would-be. She did not know what this was, what lack of control was compelling her to say things without really thinking them through.

"Are you alright?"

It took her a moment to snap out of it, and she blinked once. She then turned to look at him again. "What?"

"First you're grinning, and then you look as if you've seen the jaws of a Zillo-beast."

"I... I was just," she narrowed her brows, and reigned herself in. "Just thinking that I should apologize, actually. I do not wish to make you commit to anything you don't want to. It just kind of fell out before I knew what I was saying, in all honesty."

He nodded, smiled sympathetically and briefly, and turned his head in order to look out the window.

"No, I would rather not dance, actually." Claire flushed out of embarrassment. He paused, or finished speaking (she was not entirely sure which it was). A few moments later, he turned to look back at her again, stated, "Instead, I think I know of a place that you would like more, though without the dancing I'm afraid."

She laughed, and felt relieved. A few moments later, FLO returned and took their orders. They each chose a Xizor salad, and decided to share a nerfsteak. They each ordered water to drink. Once FLO was off to tell the orders to Dex, Claire reached down and lifted the small package onto the table. She offered it to Obi-wan, who raised a brow out of surprise.

"It's just something small. Consider it a welcome back gift as well as an apology for that day in the hangar." He reached out to touch the small, thin package. He hesitated, and was about to protest her comment when she reached out, placed a hand over his own hand, and stated softly, "Please, accept it. It will make me feel better. I want you to have it."

He narrowed his brows briefly, nodded, and began to carefully unwrap it. He pulled the gloves out of the small box and looked them over in his hands as his fingers ran over the smooth leather. His eyes then lifted up to meet hers.

"I saw how worn and nearly ruined your old gloves were. I figured you needed a new pair as a result, for when you're flying. Try them on, tell me if they fit well."

Claire was pleased to see him try them on, and they were a snug fit. He flexed his hands in them, clenched his fists, and nodded. He then removed them, and placed them on the table again. "Thank you. They do indeed fit well. I probably would not have replaced my old pair otherwise."

"That's silly, a good pilot should always have a good pair of gloves. That and, you should always have a good grip on your sabre's hilt."

"You're more than correct. Thank you again." He smiled sincerely, and it made her beam.

A few moments later, amongst the silence that fell between them, FLO came and deposited their meal and drinks. They ate in comfortable silence, and shared a few glances every now and then. Once they were full and finished, Claire said with a laugh, "You know, this must be the first time I have shared a meal with someone without having to hold a conversation in order for it not be awkward." She found herself openly admitting to him more than she expected, but she also found that she could not stop herself. "In fact, I would have never thought that a meal could be so pleasant and comfortable in silence. The food even tasted better. I really enjoyed that."

Obi-wan nodded in agreement as well. "Sometimes it's a nice change of pace: to enjoy a meal without having to worry about the intricacies of conversation. My padawan always makes a point of asking me about this or that, when our next mission is, where it will be, when our next spar will be (he really does like to spar), or when he'll be able to take the Trials. At times it can be a little overwhelming."

"Unfortunately, I can't imagine. I can hardly manage to keep my own life organized, let alone do my own job sometimes. I don't think I could take on an apprentice myself."

"It is quite a lot of responsibility. A master is responsible for teaching and preparing the student for whatever experiences they are to anticipate in the future. At times there's this disjointed gap between a lesson and the real thing, and it allows for eagerness and impatience. My padawan's been trying to cross that gap for several years."

"How old is he?"

"About eighteen."

Claire smiled knowingly. "None of that surprises me."

"I suppose to a degree it's normal. But our code deems that we curtail ambition and impatience in order to become disciplined, prepared, and patient." He paused, thought for a moment, and then leaned back in his seat as he ran a hand through his hair. "I cannot blame him for wanting to move forward in his training. But he needs to learn discipline and patience. He can't always go rushing into something recklessly. We stand to protect and defend, not provoke battle."

She frowned and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Give him time, I suppose."

"As with most things, time is all you really need."

Claire folded her hands on top of the table, and absentmindedly began to rub her thumb over the back of her other hand. They fell into silence, and she was amazed to yet again find solace in silence. In her world that was always moving, always busy, always loud, and always a little disorganized, she found that Obi-wan's presence was able to calm and relax her. She wondered briefly if that was a reason for her sudden and fast infatuation with him. She glanced up at him, and saw that he was staring out the window, most likely in thought. His body was not tense, and from a brief inspection, one could surmise that he was at ease. However, as she watched him for a little longer, she saw how his brows were narrowed, and his hand was clenched tight into a fist. It was her turn to wonder if something was wrong.

"Is something wrong?"

He suddenly turned his head, smiled half-heartedly, and then stated, "Just thinking."

She nodded in turn, without saying anything. They both were looking out the window now, with their eyes glancing at the rain that was starting to fall onto Coruscant's busy surface. It had not been raining when Claire arrived at the diner. The sky itself was stormy, perhaps influenced by the chemicals mass produced by the many businesses.

After a few minutes, she pursed her lips, raised a brow and asked, "What's it like traveling across the galaxy, meeting new people, exploring, learning?"

He seemed momentarily surprised by her question. He mused on it, but then his shoulders slouched back, and he appeared relaxed. "I find it fascinating, sometimes, to see how the Force treats others. You must understand that every living creature is connected by the Force, moved by it, and shaped by it. It can strengthen even those who do not believe in its gifts."

He paused and then continued, "There are many other worlds out there, many extremely different than our own, and everyone has an opinion, a perspective, of these various worlds and how our relations should function, what unspoken trust should be given. Or as a contrast, how much caution. They in turn view us through similar means. But I would like to refrain from using such narrow terms such as 'us' and 'them' because immediately one sets oneself up for narrow-minded beliefs. Such beliefs lead and have already led to careless violence brought about by fear throughout the galaxy. The jedi are taught to remain vigilant, even in adversity. No challenge is too difficult, if one uses selfless reason. Fear is something that must be paradoxically conquered. Fear leads to mistrust, mistrust to hate, hate to violence, and violence to tragedy. As enjoyable as my studies have been, as enjoyable as traveling to these worlds sometimes, if only rarely, can be, I bear a heavy but necessary weight upon my shoulders, one of both duty and trust. Although darkness sometimes falls, our hearts must remain true."

"I understand."

"I'm glad you do," he stated calmly, and he reached out to grasp her hand fully. Claire stiffened; she had not expected such an action on his behalf. "I had not meant to lecture or frighten you, Claire," his voice lowered to a soft tone, "I only wished to honestly answer your question."

"I appreciate your thoroughness."

"Hopefully I did not bore you at all with my rambling. I normally do not discuss my views on diplomacy with many others. My padawan and I discuss such manners at times, but he can be reckless, quick to judge, as you already know."

"Speaking of your padawan... Was he the young man with you in the hangar? Traveling with you?"

"Yes, he was. His name is Anakin. As I said earlier, he's approaching the age to take his Trials and earn the right of being a jedi. He still has some training left, of controlling his emotions, but I am proud of him. He has come a long way, and I know he will grow with every step he takes. I do not doubt he will become a strong member of our order."

Claire nodded, smiled, and squeezed their still joined hands. After a few moments, Obi-wan suddenly cracked a wry grin. She raised a brow in response. He only offered her a good chuckle. Their hands parted.

"In fact, I remember when I was a padawan."

"Oh? Is that chuckle a sign that you're recalling your own boyish antics?"

He smirked, but then looked down at his hands on the table. "It makes me wonder if I ever caused similar troubles to my own master, if he felt the way I feel now."

"I'm sure it's as that old theory goes: you never know how hard it is to be someone else until you walk in their shoes, and in your case a master."

"That's very true." Again, he smiled half-heartedly towards Claire, and then shifted his gaze back to the view outside. She noticed how he held his hands into tight fists, and the slant in his brow. She wondered if she should ask or not, though ultimately she chose to speak.

"Is something the matter?"

He turned again, frowned, and then shook his head. "I would rather not speak of it here. Are you free for the rest of the afternoon? I would like to take you to the place I mentioned before. It lacks dancing, unfortunately."

"I'll somehow manage, and yes, I am free for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I don't have work for few days." She replied with a lighthearted grin of her own.

They both left the diner then, after paying for their meal at the counter and briefly speaking with Dex and FLO. The two diner workers seemed to lighten Obi-wan's mood again, or so Claire observed. He wore his cloak now, with his hood obstructing part of his face.

The rain was much heavier than they both anticipated just from watching it earlier, for it pelted upon the metal plating on the ground and made a faint thud-thud-thud noise. The neon lights gleamed even brighter, and the streets were nearly barren on the ground level. Up above, the sound of commuters in speeders whizzing by mixed with the already loud atmosphere. Claire turned to Obi-wan and couldn't help but shrug her shoulders.

"It really is raining out here isn't it? I did not imagine for it to be a downpour. It was partially sunny when I entered the diner." He pinched his eyebrows as he glanced down at her, and nodded in reply.

"How unfortunate, we'll have to hurry over to the speeder port." She found herself flushing, however, when he opened his draping cloak and wrapped it over her head and shoulders. His arm rested on her shoulder in order to keep the cloth in place against the strong winds. "Here, can't have you getting sick. The port shouldn't be too far from here."

It felt like a long walk for Claire. They rushed, yet they did not race to the port. They exchanged few to no words as they braved the gusts of wind and the dense rain. Despite the silence, she pondered at their shared closeness, a subsequent consequence of the nasty weather. A barely noticeable smile spread across her face, if only hidden thankfully by said weather as well.

By the time they made it to the port, they realized just how drenched they really were. His hood had blown backwards, and as a result, his hair was dripping with rainwater that ran down the side of his face. He took his cloak away from her, took a step back, and began twisting the cloth in order to wring it out. She, however, felt a rush of adrenaline throughout her body.

After a few moments, he turned and looked at Claire with a disappointed frown upon his face. "Well, this won't do at all. It's a mess out there. It probably is not wise to take a speeder out right now."

"It's alright, that was perhaps the most danger and adventure I'll ever have the pleasure of experiencing on Coruscant."

"Is that so?" Obi-wan laughed and grinned. "Well, I'm glad to have braved the storm with you. If you enjoyed it so much, we'll have to do it again sometime."

"It's a date, then." Claire sobered as soon as she let the words out of her mouth. She blinked and shifted her gaze away from his own. Embarrassment silenced her for about a second, until she spoke again in order to correct herself. "I mean, well, it's whatever you want to call it. Whatever you are comfortable with calling it. I do not mean to presume anything, I just said that without really thinking, that's..."

She trailed off when she saw the disappointment in his features. He couldn't look at her (or rather, he chose not to). Of course he only wanted to be friends, or even to a lesser degree, acquaintances. She knew enough about the jedi to know that they could not have significant attachments for most everyone knew it. Instead, they were expected to remain detached enough from society that such influence could not mar their thinking, their reasoning, and their nobler duties.

She knew that her infatuation would only remain unrequited.

Claire wondered if she should say anything else, if saying anything would amend the situation. Otherwise, she realized, only the most awkward of silences could only grip them both. She chose the former idea.

"Look, I apologize. I'll just... I'll just take a speeder home. Thank you for the good company. I probably only have one chance at making myself clear, and perhaps I am a little battered by the weather, or maybe I'm just a little tired, or I guess it could be the honest fact that I've missed you. I really enjoy your company, Obi-wan. If that's all it can be, I understand. I just need to be more careful, that's all. I don't want to lose your acquaintanceship over something as silly as this."

Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, Claire decided that she needed to leave. She bowed her head politely, and turned to walk away towards the droid who managed the taxi service for this port. She felt a faint twinge in her chest as she walked away, and was about to order a ride when he called out to her. She hesitated, but against her better judgment, she turned around and addressed him.

"Yes?"

"Please, do not leave without hearing what I have to say."

Claire looked at Obi-wan and found herself frowning. She shook her head and looked down at the ground.

"No, please, don't say anything until you know, Obi-wan, that I do not need anything at all in return. I just wanted to extend my gratitude for your kindness. But please, just leave it at that."

She only turned half of a full circle before he stopped her by touching her arm. He gently turned her, and she suddenly realized how close he really was. His face was a mere few inches from hers. Water still trailed down from his hair, down his cheek, and then down his neck. Claire flushed out of embarrassment, and perhaps at how close his body was. But he spoke against her ear.

"You deserve happiness, Claire."

"You deserve it too." She whispered back. "But I don't need it, at least not now. You are a man who sacrifices his happiness for others. You forsake the world, yet you work amongst it, and you protect it. All I wish to do is extend a small hand out to you, and perhaps you will take it sometime, if only for a moment, like in the diner. At least in that moment... you may feel stronger as a result. A brief, tenuous moment. Nothing lasts; but at least in that one moment it will always last."

"You cannot destroy your feelings Claire, not for my sake."

"I'm not destroying anything. I'm just letting them sit dormant for a little while. Maybe one day you can return the favor. But right now, Obi-wan, all I need is..." she trailed off, and suddenly she asked herself, _What do you really need?_ She froze, and looked up at him. He waited for her to finish. She raised her hands, and tentatively placed one of them on his cheek and the other on his shoulder.

He didn't let her finish her statement. Instead, he closed the gap between them by wrapping his arms around her and holding her in place. Claire ran a hand through his hair, and brushed her cheek against his. _This is what I want,_ she answered silently.

"Please, just... just let me go home. I feel a little dizzy."

"Then let me take you home." His voice could hardly be heard over the sound of the rain.

She conceded because of several reasons. One, she knew how cornered she really was. Two, she did not want to further waste his time. Three, she was soaked inside and out, and she worried that she would get sick. Four, she feared she would say more things that she would regret.

He moved away from her after a few moments, and Claire purchased a speeder from the taxi droid. He drove the speeder for her, after briefly insisting that she should not drive while ill.

The silence felt heavy between them. Claire wondered why she was not cursing herself for expressing what was perhaps her inner infatuation - or whatever it was - to him. But she found that her mind was at peace, despite the tension. _Something_ was different. She felt free, as if cleared of troubles, if only momentarily. She knew in some far away part of her mind that she wasn't, but she enjoyed the sensation while it lasted.

When they inevitably arrived at her apartment door, she tilted her head to face his, and she saw faint sadness in his eyes. He offered to make her a drink, or whatever she needed, since she was not feeling well, but Claire declined.

"I finished my assistant droid. She can make me some tea. I'll be alright, Obi-wan, thank you, though."

He nodded, and she smiled half-heartedly. She was about to enter her apartment and close her door, when he said her name softly, almost mournfully.

"I still wish to take you to this other place sometime. I promised you. Perhaps in a few days, however. My padawan and I actually have some business to attend to this evening."

"Alright, Obi-wan, just leave a message sometime on my holocom. My droid will take it for me."

They parted in further silence.

Claire knew that admiration could be expressed through other means. Nothing ever needed to be said for it to be real. Perhaps that was the only way it could be. Silence could be the answer.

However, as she laid in her bed that same evening, she wondered how unhappy she really was, how desperate, if she was so willing to cling to something that could not return the favor.

x X x

The next morning, Claire surveyed the HoloNET as she partook in every day. She usually looked for cheap droid parts, cheap schematics, cheap programs, whatever she thought she might someday need for her projects.

However, a news headline caught her eye. Someone attempted to assassinate the Senator Amidala from Naboo the evening before. She casually scanned the article, found that it was a dramatized take on the entire incident, and was just about to click to another article, when the word 'jedi' caught her eye.

_"Two jedi were placed to guard Senator Amidala due to previous assassination attempts, one actually taking place the the same morning of this most recent attack. They thankfully were able to save her life yet again. It is currently unknown who committed this attempted assassination of one of the pillars of the Republic's fine democracy, but an investigation is taking place in order to quickly bring the criminal to justice."_

"Master, your tea."

Claire turned and took the offered tea from DA-R1. "Thank you, Dari dear."

The droid chirped pleasantly, and stiffly walked back to Claire's small kitchen again. Claire sighed and placed the datapad on her bed, and stood up in order to go stand on her apartment balcony. _Perhaps that was what was bothering Obi-wan at the diner, this previous assassination attempt. And now this. He stands to serve the Republic. He probably was entrusted to watch over the senator with his padawan._

She held the cup in her hands and took small sips every now and then as she thought about the article.

"Just stay safe, Obi-wan."


	4. Chapter 4

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Master, I think someone wishes to enter your established living quarters. They have been knocking for the past several minutes. Shall I escort them inside at your command?"

Claire tilted her head slightly in the other room. She shouted over the sound of her high-powered welding tool, "Alright. Fine, Dari, let them come on in." She then continued working on her ever present project: improving upon her domestic assistant droid who was now letting a stranger into her room.

"And what shall I tell my Master is the reason for your arrival, sir?" DA-R1's sing-song yet mechanical voice was loud enough to be heard in the other room. Claire briefly thought that perhaps she would need to lower the droid's feminine voice qualities as she started to shut off her equipment. She stood up from her desk, leaving behind her work in progress project.

"It's an urgent matter. I must speak with her at once."

"My Master is currently occupied at this moment − "

"Please, it will only take a few moments of her time."

She swore to herself that she recognized the voice and wondered who would be calling on her in the middle of the day, as she attempted to compose herself a little more. She brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes, dusted herself off, and lifted her goggles onto her forehead as the droid called out to her again:

"Oh," DA-R1 made a chirping noise, "Master, a man wishes to speak with you over some awfully urgent and confidential matter," a mechanical giggle-like sound, "he's also quite handsome, for a human biological," Claire sighed in the other room, "Oh! And he said his name is Master Jedi −"

"Obi-wan Kenobi." Claire finished as she stepped into the room.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. As per usual, he wore his formal jedi garb. The expression on his face alerted her that something was amiss. She folded her arms across her chest and raised a brow.

"What's going on? Now you're the one who looks like they've seen the jaws of a Zillo beast."

Her joke fell upon deaf ears, for no grin twitched at the corner of his lips, nor did his eyes ease in brief levity. Now something truly was wrong. Claire dropped the humor, and before he could say any more, she stated, "I apologize for the delayed response. I have been utilizing my free time in order to catch up on some of my own projects."

"No, no, please, I understand. I regret to intrude, but as I stated before, the matter is dire."

"Though, I'll admit you could have alerted me that you were coming over."

"There wasn't... isn't, much time."

She removed her dirty work gloves and placed them on the small side table beside her. "Alright, what's the problem?"

"It's this dart," he paused in order to rummage through one of his pockets in order to pull out a thin metal rod with a sharp point. Obi-wan stepped forward and offered it to her. "Do be careful. Most of the poisonous residue was removed last night, but we aren't exactly sure. I need to know whatever you can tell me about it. Where it was made, who made, why it was made. Anything," he placed a hand on her shoulder, and Claire could sense the desperation in his voice, "please."

She took the dart and brought it closer to her eyes in order to inspect it. After several minutes, she narrowed her brows and lifted her head in order to address him again. "This is about the attempted assassination on Senator Amidala, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is unfortunately. This dart was not fired at Amidala, but her attempted killer. Anything, Claire, anything you can get from this object will be more than helpful of finding out who is attempting to take her life."

She frowned. She placed the dart on the table beside a small stack of papers, and shook her head. "Obi-wan, this isn't exactly my specialty," her voice was even and honest.

"But you must know about this kind of material that it's made out of." He reached up and began to rub his chin. He turned away from her, took a few steps as he paced, and remained silent for a few moments. She watched him, and eventually he sighed. "Claire, I know you purchase parts from illegal sources. I know you use smuggled goods. Surely in your purchasing of such parts, you may have seen material similar to it."

He sounded defeated, but she immediately narrowed her brows and let out a low gasp of disgust. It was his last chance at getting her to talk, and talk she did.

"I never told you about my dealings... at least _those_ dealings..." she was infuriated. "Just what are you insinuating Obi-wan?"

"Listen, Claire, I'm at a dead end. I need this information, and if it means making you angry, then I apologize for doing just that." He seemed apologetic, and part of Claire truly wanted to end the conversation at that, and forgive him. The other part wanted to tell him to leave. She chose to give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out. She knew when to pick her battles.

"I don't know how you found out about it, but I do not wish to further discuss the matter. No matter. It seems that no secrets can be withheld from a jedi."

"Now wait, just what are you insinuating?" He folded his arms across his chest, and his tone was defensive.

"Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if you managed to use the Force to find out about my personal errands in order to see if I'm trustworthy, or some other ridiculous reason. What I do in the underworld market concerns me and me only. It's none of your business."

"Claire, it is my business." She did not see _how_ it was, and she narrowed her brows at him in annoyance. "It' not only illegal, but it's also dangerous. You have to look out for more than just your hobbies, you have to look out for your own life."

"And who are you to tell me about danger, Obi-wan? Please, don't lecture me about it." She then pointed to the dart on the table. She turned to look at him, and she shook her head a few times. "That's a deadly weapon." She walked away from him, removed her goggles, undid her pony-tail, and ran her free hand though her loose hair. With her back to him, she suddenly found herself choking on her own words. "You threaten your life over and over, and for what reason?" Her voice lowered and shook. "A duty? Who's there to protect _your_ life, huh? Just what are you really dabbling with?"

Obi-wan walked up towards her, and stood behind her. He gently turned her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and gripped them so that she stayed in place. "Please, Claire, I'm sorry for bringing it up, but I need your help now. This is beyond you and I."

She sighed. She averted his eyes, and then slowly nodded. "Fine. You're right." He loosened his grip on her and took a step back. She continued, "I promised to help you whenever you needed me." Her voice remained low, hardily audible, for she feared it would crack otherwise. "But I trusted you."

"You can continue to trust me." He said firmly. "I have not tricked you, manipulated you, or done anything that pertains to mistrust, to you. I do not abuse the Force."

"Yeah, well," she paused and walked over to the table again. She lifted the dart and inspected it again. "I don't back out of promises Obi-wan."

He nodded, and she replaced her goggles over her eyes, yet kept her hair loose. She pressed a small button on the upper rim her goggles' rubber casing, and was able to examine the object's finer details. "You know, you're such a mystery," she stated nonchalantly without looking up, "sometimes I think I have you figured out, and then you go and make a whirlwind out of a gust of wind."

His chuckle surprised her. "And what exactly makes me so mysterious?"

"Your odd sense of charm. The way you know things. You listen... though when you talk, you always say the right things. It's as if you always have a upper hand on the conversation."

"I don't always say the right thing, Claire."

"Well, I guess no one can ever say you _aren't_ the noble and always humble jedi."

She didn't see the expression on his face, yet his pause or hesitation (she could not tell from the silence) caused her to flash her eyes up to look at him briefly. Finally, he stated simply, "I'm not perfect."

"Of course you aren't. No one is."

"I just do what I think is right. I do my −"

"Duty, I know." She sounded more sarcastic than appreciative.

Silence fell between them again.

"Hand me my datapad, if you don't mind. It's in my room, on top of my bed."

He nodded, momentarily left, and then returned with the device in hand. He placed it on the table and then pulled up a chair as he watched her look at the dart. Claire immediately began to research the materials on the HoloNET. After several more minutes of silence, she turned to Obi-wan, and pointed at the dart.

"It's not much, but it's something."

"I'll take whatever you know. I came seeking your help, and I will be appreciative of whatever you know."

"It was manufactured on Kamino, ever heard of it?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, you see..." she paused and looked at him with a quick glare, "a lot of my purchases, as you know, arrive to me through smuggled means. I have purchased hardware and parts similar to the materials that this saberdart is made out of."

He nodded and his eyes followed her fingers as they ran over the metal. "And?"

"I don't know much else about it, really. I just pay for the goods. I don't ask questions. For safety reasons and all. Those smugglers, all they care about is their pay, their ship, and their drinks." She placed the dart in his hands. "But, I do know someone who knows more about that planet than I do. Dex."

"Really? Are you positive?"

"Of course, I promise." Claire offered a smile, but it faded. "That's all I know. Dex'll be able to tell you more."

Obi-wan smiled slightly, and for what Claire thought was less than a second's time. "Thank you Claire." He began to make his way towards her door again after standing from his chair without further hesitation. He also thanked DA-R1, who sweetly (or as sweetly as her feminine programming allowed) told him goodbye in return.

Before he was out of her door, Claire followed after him. She abruptly found herself worrying that she would not see him again for a long time. She did not want his last impression of her to be marred by her anger towards him.

"Wait, Obi-wan." He stopped just outside of her apartment's entrance and turned around. "If I find out anything else that may be of use to you, I'll be sure to contact you."

"That would be most helpful." He bowed his head politely and then promptly left her standing in her own doorway.

Once her door was closed, she cursed loudly to herself. Even DA-R1 could sense that something was amiss with her master, who sometimes had a hard time interpreting emotions. The droid stiffly walked up to Claire and asked if there was anything that she could do to be of service.

Claire nearly had forgotten about DA-R1, and was startled out of her own mixture of anger, regret, and disappointment. With a sigh, she replied, "No, Dari. I'm..." she trailed off and walked towards her table, picked up her datapad, and headed for her bedroom. "I'm going to do some research in my room. Perhaps there's something I missed earlier."

"Alright then, Master." The droid chirped pleasantly, completely missing her master's lowered, mournful voice. "I shall prepare dinner, if that is what you wish."

"Just something small. Maybe some tea, too," she called out as she shut the door to her bedroom. Claire sat down on her bed. After quickly remembering how dirty and greasy her clothes were from her earlier activities, she decided to clean up before crawling into bed with her datapad. She thought a nice shower would ease her anxious mind, and perhaps also take her mind off a certain jedi.

x X x

Later that evening, Claire ate dinner alone in her bed as she researched the planet of Kamino. She hoped that Obi-wan had better luck than her, because she hardly found any viable information that could be of real use to him.

A few hours later, just before midnight, DA-R1 knocked on her door, came in at her master's approval, and then alerted her that someone was at the door again. Claire promptly stood up and left her quarters in order to open the door. She briefly pondered who would be knocking on her door so late into the evening.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Yet again she did not expect Obi-wan Kenobi as her visitor.

"Hello again," he politely stated as she allowed him inside. "Were you asleep? I do apologize if you were." He addressed her cream colored nightgown.

"No, I was relaxing, that's all. I finished dinner a few hours ago. Are you hungry? There's some food leftover, I'm sure. Dari always cooks a lot, even when I tell her not to." He shook his head, but Claire was not convinced. "I insist, you probably have been working all day. You ought to eat something."

"Alright, alright. I'll have something, thank you." She guided him into the small kitchen connected to the main part of her apartment. He sat down at the small table as she and DA-R1 gathered the leftovers for him. She then sent DA-R1 away, preferring to take care of the food herself, she decided.

"It has been a long day." She heard a tired sigh. "But as I said earlier, it's all very urgent matters."

It only took her a few minutes to re-heat the leftovers. She watched the food closely, so as not to overcook it again (she hated to admit it, but DA-R1 was a much better cook than she, in both taste, style, and approach). She raised a brow as she placed the plate of food and a glass of water infront of him. She sat down across from him and folded her arms across her chest. "Then why return here, might I ask?"

He did not immediately reply, and instead chose to eat. Claire couldn't help but laugh, as it was quite obvious how hungry Obi-wan really was. He ate the food rather quickly, and had not stopped to answer her question.

"Well, gosh, Obi-wan, I do hope you chewed."

He too laughed as he wiped his mouth clean. "Compliments to your droid's cooking skills." Claire smiled for a moment, but he continued, "and compliments to the woman who made said droid."

"I was actually working on replacements, or I guess upgrades for Dari earlier. As you saw earlier, her limbs move stiffly. I... ah, purchased more flexible metal over the HoloNET and some better parts than her originals. She'll be running and skipping before I know it."

He furrowed his brow and then relaxed gradually. "I... I wanted to apologize for that, earlier."

"Please, Obi-wan, it's fine." She frowned and stood up and took his plate away. He declined more food, but Claire chose to make herself a small glass of water as well. She sat down again quietly, and then folded her hands on the table beside her glass.

"It isn't fine, Claire. I should explain myself." He took another gulp from his glass. "Your droid accidentally let it slip. She asked if I were delivering some parts that she knew were coming from the Works. I have been through the Works plenty of times to know about the smuggling that occurs there."

"Oh, is that so?" She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "It happens, I suppose. I guess even droids have a hard time keeping secrets. Please, don't feel bad about it. It's... as you said, there's more important matters to worry about."

Obi-wan nodded and his smile made her feel relieved. They did not bring up smuggling or the Works again that evening.

"You must be proud of yourself, it's a good prototype," he stated after a few minutes. He held her gaze, and Claire wondered if she would ever have a chance to organize her thoughts, or more closely, her feelings about him. She stared at him as he stared back, and she forgot that they were having a conversation in that moment. Suddenly she jerked herself out of the small trance she placed herself in, and ran a hand through her combed brown hair.

She also had nearly forgotten that he was complimenting her. "Oh, yes, I suppose I am. It's a work in progress, regardless."

They each shared another smile, and yet again Claire found herself at peace in his presence. Once they each finished their glasses of water, she stood up and took those as well to her sink. She washed the dishes for DA-R1, knowing already that the droid could not wash dishes due to her metal not being water resistant. After a few minutes, she turned and saw Obi-wan sitting with his hands folded on the table and his eyes closed. He breathed evenly and quietly, and she knew he was meditating. She walked over to his side of the table and stood beside him. She watched him rest, and figured he was probably exhausted.

Claire gently placed her hand on his shoulder, and he stirred. He immediately came to life again and tilted his head in order to look at her. "You should probably get some sleep. You can stay here for the night, if you wish."

He blinked and lifted a hand to rub his tired eyes. She realized that her latter sentence could be misconstrued easily. She cursed to herself, and then shrugged a few moments later. "You can take my bed, and I can take the small cot I have in my work room."

Obi-wan shook his head. "No, I can take the cot. Please, I've already intruded − "

"You haven't intruded at all. I insist." She removed her hand on his shoulder and folded her arms across her chest. "It's late, and you're exhausted. You need to get some sleep."

Claire smiled when he conceded. He stood from his chair and followed her into her bedroom. He removed his tattered robe and placed it at the bottom of her bed. She walked over to her bed and began to pull down the sheets for him. She found herself flushing in the dark room. The only light that peered inside came from the outside city area, for her bedroom was connected to the apartment's balcony. She faintly heard the distant sound of speeders moving about the city. After a few moments, she stepped away from her bed and was unable to look at him, even in the darkness. He sat down on the mattress and Claire knew that he was watching her closely.

"Ah... well, if you need anything else, Obi-wan, do not hesitate to let me know." She softly said with a smile. She turned to leave, but he stopped her by reaching out and gently took her hand. Claire glanced over her shoulder at him, and they stayed still. She conceded, and assumed that they were not done talking.

She eased and rotated around to look at his outlined figure. "Tell me why you really came here tonight, Obi-wan." She wanted an answer. Her voice remained steady, firm, and low. "You would not have come unless it was something important, something that was just as important and urgent as this other issue about Amidala's attempted assassin."

"Claire," he hesitated, but chose to ask, "Do you trust me?"

"If I can't trust a jedi, I can't really trust anyone now, can I?" she mused.

Now he reached out and took her other hand. Something was amiss yet again. She narrowed her brow suspiciously, but gradually un-tensed as he gently squeezed her hands. "I mean do you trust me as a man."

Claire was not sure if she should be concerned, suspicious, or excited by his words. She thought quickly, and looked within herself for that answer. He was honest and sincere, she understood that to be true. But as she addressed earlier that day, he remained a mystery. He's allowed to have secrets too, she decided. Without further hesitation, she took a few small steps towards his seated position, and was surprised when his calloused hands fell away from her hands and instead moved to the small of her back.

She leaned forward and whispered close to his ear, "Yes, I do."

Her body trembled at his soothing touch on her back. It had been too long since she felt the strange mixture of emotions simmering throughout her; yet, they felt fresh and Claire chose to welcome them. One hand slowly moved up her back over the thin nightgown. She needed to remind herself to breathe in their silence. Tentatively she placed her own hands on his shoulders. Her fingers brushed over his covered collarbone and drew small circles.

Eventually, the silence was broken.

"I leave for Kamino in the morning," he began as his hand on the small of her back too began to lazily draw random, meaningless shapes. "My padawan has already taken Senator Amidala back to her home planet Naboo, for her safety."

"What are you saying, Obi-wan?"

This time he did not hesitate. "I'm saying that I won't be on Coruscant for a long time."

She trembled as she heard his verdict. She did not know what to make of those words immediately, so she chose to ask, "Shouldn't you be resting, then?" She could not hide the way her voice shook from him.

The weight of his words slowly fell upon her. After being away for so long, he was leaving again for an indefinite amount of time. It made her chest hurt. It nearly made her eyes water, but she reminded herself that she needed to remain strong.

"I cannot sleep."

"Why?" she questioned. _Is it for the same reason?_

"I've had a hard time sleeping for the past several weeks." He paused and he let out a low sigh. One of Claire's hands moved up over his shoulder in order to cup his neck, and then through his hair. He let out a low murmur, and she leaned even closer to him, with the hope to draw out that noise again. "It's only gotten worse, I'm afraid."

She raised a brow and she could not help but briefly chuckle. "You're being awfully indirect," she stated afterwards.

"I honestly don't know, Claire." She nodded, but he continued. "But I am most confident as to how to fix it."

And with that as his final word, the hand on her shoulder moved to cup her cheek. Before she could say anything, he closed the gap between them by kissing her. The sounds of the ever-awake city echoed in her ears. Her eyes remained open, despite the darkness, as she eased into the kiss, but soon enough she submitted to Obi-wan. The hand in his hair began to caress his scalp, and the hand on her cheek rubbed against her cheekbone.

Though the kiss was brief, she parted with a small smile on her face and presumed that he was smiling just as broadly as her.

"How do you feel?" she asked him.

"As if a weight's been lifted off of my shoulders."

Claire exhaled slowly, and found his bittersweet words to be comforting. She nuzzled her cheek against his own before meeting his lips again. Never had she so badly wanted to ask a question, a simply phrased question, that would bombard whatever she hoped or knew they were sharing in those few moments.

 _What does this mean,_ she silently pleaded. She found that she could not resist. Thus, she moved away from him slightly, and though their kisses were mostly chaste, she found herself breathing heavier.

"Obi-wan," she whispered and felt her chest cringe again. "What does this mean?" Her request was neither chiding nor demanding. "Please tell me what this is."

He hesitated again, and his hand slowly slid away from her cheek in order to run through her hair as well. It made Claire smile half-heartedly.

"I don't know how long I'll be gone Claire," was his only reply.

Then it dawned on her. He could never bring himself to say it directly. She closed her eyes and then nodded.

"I understand." And she truly hoped she did.

x X x

They shared a bed that evening, choosing not to be separated any more from the other any longer than they ultimately would be. They shared each other's company, and held one another. Before they each had fallen asleep, Claire placed four kisses upon Obi-wan: one on his forehead, one on each cheek, and then one on his lips. Each held a silent message.

 _I'll miss you,_ the first said.

 _Stay safe,_ the second.

 _Come back to me,_ the third stated.

Before she placed the fourth, he embraced her and she swore that she heard him murmur something. A few moments later, she placed the fourth.

_I love you, even if you cannot love me back._


	5. Chapter 5

As with most events in Claire's life, the flurry of activity met its crest and then tapered off again, and thus fell back into routine and consistency. Nothing could be done about the immediate changes that occurred as a result of what happened. She knew that everything would inevitably continue, push onwards, and like last time, she kept herself busy with work.

Work in itself was changing. It only took a matter of months, but a rumor began to spread throughout her coworkers that the Republic was arming itself. Troops were not being raised at the moment, but the Separatist crisis escalated with time as well. The Senate continued to give the Chancellor special emergency powers, and people cheered in their security. Coruscant busied itself with activity as well, for a galaxy that never rested would continue to never rest.

Claire wondered about Obi-wan from time to time. There was no communication between them, much like the last time he was off-planet. However, this time she found it harder to immerse herself elsewhere and forget about it for at least a little while. She ended her business as a private commission based mechanic, and solely devoted her time to working in the Senate's hangar. She told herself it was for the better pay. Her reasoning was that if the Republic would soon be going to war with the Separatists, that credits would run thin, and she would need to support herself somehow for when the storm arrived. Regardless, as much as she told herself to stay focused in the hangar, she still found herself checking the arrivals gates, hoping to see his return, and perhaps smile from afar.

When she was away from work (for she soon discovered that when one tries to work lengthy periods of time for the sake of staying focused, if not too focused, one eventually crashes and burns out), and at her apartment, she would sometimes search the HoloNET for the latest news on the rising tension between the two entities in the galaxy. But the news of at least anything pertaining to the serious matter at hand, was little in itself. Even her curious protocol droid asked questions about the mysterious jedi master who frequented Claire's home, and his lack of visits as of late.

"Dari, he never _frequented_ my home. He came here for business only," she tried to explain one evening. The droid wasn't getting it.

"Business? Master, are you working with him?"

"No, I'm not." She shook her head and frowned. But her prototype droid did not seem to understand the facial expression, and continued to misinterpret her master's behavior.

"Will you not see him again? He was a very pleasant organic, indeed. You should invite him over more." The droid made a chirping noise − her attempt at a laugh − and then asked her master if she would like more tea.

Claire ignored the tea question and felt the needed to restate, "Dari, you have to understand. That jedi and I are only acquaintances. He came here for business. I helped him a couple of times when he needed some extra help. It isn't what you're thinking." She paused. "I'm going to make a few adjustments to your programming if you continue to have problems misinterpreting organic emotions."

"Oh," a low pitched noise came from DA-R1, "but master, am I not serving you well?"

"No, nothing's wrong with your service. You're a wonderful prototype. You just have a few problems understanding sad −" she stopped herself, narrowed her brows, and reached up and rubbed her tired eyes. "No, no, no. I'm not sad. Forget I said that. Listen, it won't be much of a change. I'll work on it the next day I'm off. There's nothing to worry about."

"Yes, master, I understand. I shall not worry. I anticipate these improvements, then. Do you require anything else? Tea? Dinner? Foot-massage?"

She could not help but laugh at the idea. She started to gather her datapad and as she walked into her bedroom, said over her shoulder, "No, Dari. Just the tea. I'll be in my quarters. That'll be all, afterwards."

Before getting comfortable in her sheets for the evening, she cleaned up, put on a nightgown, took a sip of the tea now sitting at her bedside table, and then got under the sheets. She was about to sift through the HoloNET again, when she saw that there was a message waiting for her. She activated it and immediately saw that it was an old message, but new to her. Claire assumed that she must have missed it somehow. It was dated for the morning of Obi-wan's departure to Kamino. A tight, clenched feeling in her chest heightened her anticipation and curiosity as she began to read the message to herself.

It read:

_Claire,_

_I apologize for being unable to thank you again for your help and support in this matter. For your hospitality, your knowledge, and your understanding. I regret leaving before you woke, but my departure from Coruscant is occurring in the early morning._

_We will probably not see each other for a very long time. If not longer than before. I don't know if I'll be able to contact you as well while I am away. I will try, but I am not sure. I will not make any promises that I know that I may not be able to keep. There is much weighing on my mind, as I am sure there is much weighing upon your own. Please do not worry for me. Do not miss me. Stay strong and diligent. More importantly, you must move forward. Don't wait for me._

Claire's tea was finished, and despite DA-R1 interrupting her immersion in his message, and asking what was wrong with her master, she shooed the droid out of her room with an almost too scolding tone. She did not want her droid to see her like this. She rubbed her eyes, hoping to dry them again, and regain some composure.

_These words are not much consolation, I realize. But I know you will be fine. If there is anyone at all on Coruscant whom I know can remain strong, I know that it's you. Continue doing what you do best._

_I do not have much time left, but I want to especially thank you for the good night's rest. It will likely be the only lengthy rest I'll have in a long while._

_Sincerely,_

_Obi-wan Kenobi_

x X x 

_"Fellow citizens, the Republic is now at war. What is now being called the fight for the entire galactic universe is now at hand. Geonosis was just the beginning. The Senate has given Supreme Chancellor Palpatine emergency powers in order to deal with this crisis. Can the fate of the Republic stand in the hands of one man controlling the Senate? Can nothing be done to stop the Separatists? An army of clone troopers was sent in alongside 212 jedi. The Jedi Council participated in this battle, and suffered massive casualties as a result. What can be done? Is this force truly unstoppable against those who in fact wield The Force? We at HoloNET News Network will be updating you on this matter when new information streams to us from our journalists in the field. We have journalists already flying out to the sights to give you first-hand accounts of the battles and all the juicy details. We encourage you to read more about the 'Clone War' after the break..."_

x X x

"The Republic needs all the help it can get, miss."

"Are you sure this is necessary? My knowledge and specialty lies in fixing vehicles and droids, not tending to the wounded."

"The Republic needs all the help it can get, and sacrifices must be made in order to defend against the Separatists. We need those who have experience in medical technology most importantly. The Republic needs you to do your part in these trying times."

"I signed up to work on vehicles and droids, machines! Not the wounded. Can't you read?"

"I'm sorry miss, that's the only option we have at this moment in the field of technology. Will you do your duty to the Republic or not?"

"Yes, yes, fine! Quit the guilt trip, I've already signed up, haven't I?"

"Your Republic thanks you for your service, miss."

x X x

Duty. It seemed she could truly never escape from it.

x X x

_19 BBY, Coruscant_

"Listen, soldier, you have to stay still for me while I take your measurements for this implant I'll eventually be installing for you. It will only take a moment −"

"Damnit, it all hurts! Can't you give me something stronger?"

"I've told you already, if you could just sit still for a _moment_ I could then be finished, and the droids could give you your damn medicine! So just shut up already and we'll get this done and over with!"

All lack of pleasantries aside, Claire's new job as a military doctor of the Republic's Grand Army was going as swimmingly as any high stress job could go. She had already gotten over the strange acknowledgement that the majority of the army's soldiers were quite literally _clones_ , and was now regularly cleaning up the messes that battles made. Her regular work varied from administering medpacs, stim-shots, rotating the wounded in bacta and kolto tanks, and installing cybernetic implants on those lacking appendages (the luckier ones). Every day, regardless, she thanked the stars that she was not a field doctor.

She had moved from station to station over the past three years, depending on the battle, but was now again on Coruscant in order to deal with the wounded from the most recent battle that was, in fact, over the city-planet itself. The clone troopers dropped like heavy weights from the sky, crashing onto the surface, and damaging some of the urban structures. But most troopers this time were killed in action. The men she currently worked on were transfers from others stations and other past battles. Claire did not presume to think that they liked this war any more than she did. And again, she thanked the stars she was not a field doctor.

It was not the fact that she could not stand the gore of war: the massive casualties, the yelling, the anger, the stress, or the recovery process. It felt like she had been with war all her life. The galaxy never rested, not when conflict remained. She did what she needed to do to stay alive: helping others stay alive.

"There, I'm done," she stated after a few minutes of measuring and recording the information onto her datapad. Claire signaled for the medical droid nearby to administer the proper dosage of adrenals. "We'll be seeing each other again soon. Don't miss me too much, will you?"

As she left the room, she heard the soldier groan in pain. She badly needed a drink, but there was work to be done. Patients to see. Implants to adjust. Tanks to rotate. Medicine to dose out. Medipacs to order. The list continued on and on, every day, all day. Claire rubbed her eyes as she walked down the hallway in the Republic's Central Medcenter. Everything felt off. Her eyes felt puffy. Her neck was stiff. Her feet were burning. Her head started to throb. Her vision blurred. Her pace started to slow without her realizing, and before she knew what was happening, she stumbled over her own feet, but caught herself against the nearby wall.

She cursed to herself, louder than she hoped or cared for, sobered from her sudden dizzy spell, and then continued walking to her next destination. A medical droid stopped her for a brief moment in order to address where she was needed now. With a nod and a forced smile that the droid probably did not comprehend, she made her way to the next room, the next patient, and the next raging headache.

It took her only a few minutes to find her way to the next room. Claire, preoccupied by the information she chose to review on her datapad, did not look up when she walked inside. "You'll have to pardon my late arrival, but there are simply so many of you soldiers in here today that I really must admit that I'm starting to wonder if you all injure yourselves on purpose in order to get a break already − "

Claire looked up from her datapad as the man seated upon the medical bed turned his head in order to look over his shoulder at her. She nearly dropped her datapad.

"Claire?"

Obi-wan Kenobi did not look any different, besides the few new scars on his face and hands. He wore the same simple cream colored shirt he always could be found in. His eyes looked just as tired as hers, but the small glint of surprise was still recognizable. His hands were at his sides, not folded in his lap for meditation. He had been waiting.

She found her voice again in a moment's notice. Her brows narrowed and she sighed in exasperation. "Excuse me, but just what are you doing here General Kenobi?"

She knew enough about his participation in the military just from overhearing conversations amongst patients. She knew that many jedi masters were now officers of the Republic's army. She knew he was one.

"That's a strange question to ask someone who's come here seeking medical attention?"

"You?" Claire found that her voice was more sarcastic than empathetic. It disturbed her more when she began to laugh. "Oh, that is simply too funny. Who are you trying to kid? Well? You, General Kenobi, never are injured, or if you are, you never seek attention of that sort."

"I beg to differ, _Miss_ Elrin."

"That's Doctor Elrin to you." She stated firmly, as if it actually meant something to her. In that moment and time, she could not put her finger on why she was acting rudely and apathetically. "Now go on, try to humor me. This dreadful place could use some humor."

"Alright, I think I have a good joke in me. You're in luck." Claire folded her arms while still holding the datapad, and waited. "What did the exhausted jedi say to the tired doctor?"

"I don't know, it's your joke."

He nodded and grinned. "I really could use a check up, do you mind helping me out?"

"That's a bad joke." She said with a frown. She sighed, unfolded her arms while shaking her head, and then walked over to the other side of the room. She leaned against the other medical bed and faced him. "But don't worry, I have a better one."

"Oh please, don't keep me waiting. As you said, this place needs more humor."

"Okay. Here goes. A jedi walks into a medcenter and asks for help. He could be at his own healing quarters inside of the Jedi Temple, bothering them, but he chooses to come here instead. Or better yet, the Senate's medcenter. He tells the doctor, 'I'm seeking medical attention. I think I hit my head. I'm in the wrong place.' And so the doctor says, 'Gee, we're understaffed and overflowing with patients. Maybe you should try elsewhere.'"

"I've heard better." The grin remained on his face, but as he shifted his body slightly, he winced and the grin fell away. "I forgot to tell you the other part of my joke's punchline. He really could use some help."

"Is that so?" Claire folded her arms again. "And what could be ailing this jedi? Hm?"

"Let's just say a little bit of the universe fell onto him, knocked him unconscious, and then when he woke up, his body a little beaten for that matter, you know, just a little, he had to fly an abandoned cruiser that was falling from the atmosphere towards the planet's surface, and managed to land it safely. So he does all this, and in his adrenaline rush, forgets about his injuries until now." He paused. "Did I mention the best part? He absolutely hates flying."

Claire did not reply, but instead stared straight back at him. She tried to do what so many other jedi could do. She tried to read Obi-wan. It was harder than she initially imagined, but also at the same time so obvious. They were two tired soldiers fighting what was starting to feel like a war without an end in sight, he with a lightsaber and she with her medicine and technology. So she chose to look at other parts of him. She saw the wear on his hands, could almost feel the dry, calloused sensation on her own hands. She saw the lines of exhaustion all over his face, the frustration, and most importantly she the same questions reflected back to her. Her eyes trailed away from him, and instead fell to the even more tattered robe laying beside him, and the now worn gloves − the gloves she gave him three years ago.

Suddenly she found that she could not look at him. Everything began to hurt again. Her head, her chest, her neck, her feet − all of which sufficed to make her tremble. Claire covered her mouth in order to attempt to suppress the shudder and the way her throat made a sobbing noise that she hated. Her other free hand clenched and unclenched into a fist. _It wasn't supposed to go this way,_ she told herself. It became harder to think straight, harder to see clearly. Her knees buckled and she knew that she needed to catch herself before she plummeted to the −

Obi-wan caught her, for the dazed expression on her face was enough to alarm any nearby bystanders. He steadied her by gripping her shoulders and eventually easing her into a sitting position. He offered to get her a glass of water, but Claire refused in a low voice.

"Well, this is surprising. I come here seeking medical attention and the doctor who's assigned to take a look at me nearly passes out in turn." Claire saw his small smile, but felt too weak to make a comment in return. "I could tell immediately, the moment you walked into here, that you haven't been sleeping. You were dragging your feet, and your expression gave you away, I'm afraid."

She looked up at him with heavy eyes. "And?"

"Well, I didn't expect that I would be the one playing doctor."

"No one's forcing you to do anything."

"You've grown more bitter."

"War does that to you, doesn't it?"

"It can, you are indeed correct." He frowned and chose to get a glass of water for her, despite her protests. A moment later, he returned and offered the glass to her. She reached up with a shaking hand, and was about to take it when he moved it away from her. "Your hands are trembling. I don't want you to spill." He tilted the glass above her lips and she greedily gulped away, quenching her thirst, if only momentarily.

The water did indeed help Claire, and the throbbing in her head and feet began to lessen. With her still trembling hand, she reached up and rubbed her neck. She watched him as he settled back on the bed across from her, with his hands folded in his lap now. A rush of guilt overcame her, and she stated in a low voice, "I'm sorry."

He nodded, shrugged his shoulders slightly, and did not reply.

"I... it's just been rough. I know that's hard to say to someone who's actually out there fighting the physical fight."

"War is difficult for everyone."

"I just didn't expect to see you in here. I apologize for giving you such a hard time. I don't know what overcame me." Her flat voice lacked any heavy emotion besides fatigue. She sighed. "Or maybe I did want to see you again. I don't know. I can't think straight."

"You need sle−"

"I don't need anything." She interrupted. "I don't have time to need things."

"You need your rest if you wish to continue not needing things." He chuckled, and then continued. "Otherwise, you're going to drive yourself to even more fatigue, until you really do pass out."

"I wasn't in the process of passing out earlier because of exhaustion or frustration or whatever it is or was, or still is." She shook her head and gestured for him to stop. "Or maybe it was because of those things, or maybe it wasn't − damnit my head is throbbing again −" she closed her eyes tight and her hand fell away from her neck. Her jaw clenched, and then released with a stream of curses. "For star's sake, Obi-wan! Will you just get out of my head!"

"I'm sorry?" He appeared confused now. Claire fumed.

"You damn well know what you're doing. Don't act dumb."

"Really, you're going to have to humor me again."

"Your gloves! Those were the gloves I gave you!"

"Yes," he stated as he grabbed the leather gloves and held them in his hands. "These are indeed the gloves you gifted me."

"Well why are you wearing them?"

"Claire, they are gloves. They're meant for wearing." He grinned at his own dry sense of humor, and continued watching her.

"It's been three years and I still haven't figured out how to get you out of my head. I can't think straight. You're making it all wrong. Can't you just stop? I thought work would fix it, but here I am, still as ridiculous as before."

Obi-wan listened to her and maintained eye-contact. He remained silent afterwards, let her anger simmer and fall away into only a frown. He stood up from the bed again and walked over to her. He stood infront of her and looked down at her tilted head. When he did reply to her, it was hard for Claire to hear his exact words because they were so quiet.

"Is that why you haven't been sleeping? Because you can't get me out of your head?"

"Yes." She tried to gather her thoughts, to pick her words wisely, but she was already talking before she even realized it. Obi-wan sat down beside her and listened. "It's hard to fall asleep in a bed with half of it missing."

But then he enveloped her body in his arms, holding onto her tightly. He tilted his head slightly and whispered to her, "It's hard to fall asleep when you miss someone so much."

She nodded, and weakly returned his embrace. Her head leaned against his shoulder, and although she knew that he was wincing, she wanted to be close to him. She laid a kiss on his collarbone and then his neck. "Can't you just say it, just once?"

"I don't know." One of his hands slowly undid her pony-tail in order to let a hand freely run through her hair, smoothing it out, and reassuringly comforting her.

Claire wanted to feel frustrated, but she chose to accept defeat rather than stir another battle between them again. She apologized for her behavior before, and after a few more moments of silence and being close, they parted and she properly examined his body. There were some internal injuries that a good bit of bacta could fix, as well as some abrasions on his chest and arms. He explained what he remembered before the unconsciousness, and Claire herself winced at the idea of being thrown into the air, hitting a wall, and then having a heavy piece of metal fall onto him. But she knew that fussing over it would not fix his wounds, nor would it prevent him from engaging in such activities. Appropriate application of bacta and the bandaging of his chest to assure proper healing were the products of her prognosis.

They arranged an afternoon together for the next time they each were off from their regular duties. Obi-wan was patched up and ready to leave, and Claire needed to get back to work.

"I promised to take you to out sometime, do you remember?" He asked as he put his shirt back on over the bandages.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "You mean when we were at Dex's?"

"Yes, that's correct." He smiled back at her as he stood up and put his gloves back on, then his robes.

"I remember that." She turned and punched a few more numbers onto her datapad before adding, "Talk to one of the medical droids down the hall. I'm ordering you a small dosage of stims to help ease the pain af −"

Claire was interrupted by the sudden unexpected kiss. It was a kiss that made her body tremble again. The cool, rough sensation of his gloved hand on her cheek was almost too much for her. The artificial lighting was blinding her. She thought her head was throbbing again, or that it was maybe the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, or maybe she was feeling faint again. But it was more than what Claire thought it would be. Suddenly he was everywhere, though he had not moved an inch. But she kissed him back, and it lacked something that their last kiss so long ago had. It was no longer a _chaste_ kiss.

It did not occur immediately to Claire, as she sheepishly smiled after they parted, each a little more awake than before. Her hands trembled and her cheeks flushed. It was overwhelming. The datapad fell onto the nearby bedside, and with mutual grins, they dove in again. Now it really did not feel chaste. His hand fell to her hips, and his body pressed her against the small bedside table. It felt like a rush of sensations, a tremor down her spine, a curling in her toes. Everything was warm, tender to the touch, and real. Pent up longing, frustration, and even a little anger, rushed into their passion. They parted again, but his face stayed close.

"I-I need to get back to work, Obi-wan."

He grinned again, and Claire laughed out of levity. "Oh, don't be smug about this."

"I'm being entirely serious, Claire." His grin made her a little skeptical.

"Are you?"

He kissed her again for good measure and reassurance.

"What time will you be done with your work here?" He asked as he laid a few small kisses on her neck.

She inhaled a little sharply, shrugged, but then added, "It varies, why do you ask?"

Claire watched the grin fade. Realization came over him, and he stepped away from her. It was a quite interesting, in her eyes, to see someone else caught up in the moment for once.

In fact, Claire had never seen a jedi lost for words before, and she had met plenty of jedi over the past four years. His expression sobered, and she regretted asking of his intentions.

"Nevermind, it doesn't matter−" from the corner of her eye, she saw someone else rushing into the room. Obi-wan's padawan. Now Claire sobered too. "I mean to say, General, that you'll need to take a few extra adrenals while those internal wounds help up. Otherwise, you'll be just fine." Claire picked up her datapad and nodded to Obi-wan as she made her way out of the room. She stopped in the doorway and without turning around, said, "Oh and by the way, do try to not hurt yourself anymore than you already have, will you? It's bad enough we're overrun with troopers. We don't need jedi getting wounded too now."

"I'll do what I can, Doctor Elrin." She smiled and made her way to her next patient, a little stronger for that matter.


End file.
